So Wrong
by Singtoangels1
Summary: *Yet another challenge piece from The Smutty Classroom* Ron is having a bad day and he learns that sometimes, you just need to be alone. *http://groups.yahoo.com/group/The_Smutty_Classroom*


Title: So Wrong  
Authour: Sing to Angels  
Authour's notes: Right, I just whipped this up in twenty minutes. Don't ask me _where_ it came from, somewhere deep in my twisted psyche, I suppose. That and I've been reading far too much fan fiction lately so my mind is warping from the strain. This is in answer to the Masturbation Challenge at TSC, so I hope all of you fellow nutters enjoy this. I'm sure that the Ron fans will, at least, considering that he is the main character.

It was just so _wrong_.

This happened every time they got into a fight. Hermione would flick her hair in his face whilst clutching his arm and he'd wish that she could move her hand just a little lower and grab something else as he strained against her. That's when _it_ would happen and he'd have to make his excuses and dash madly to the loo.

Harry would try and follow him, of course, be the supportive friend. But Ron wanted to be alone. God, didn't they understand? He simply _had_ to be alone for this.

Ron sighed and ran his hands through his hair once he'd reached the empty lavatory. He sat down on a toilet in one of the stalls and tried to think of something that would make that—that _thing_ in his trousers go away. Well, he didn't want it to go away, just to—er, shrink back to its normal size. Shrink wasn't a great word either.

Giving up on trying to make sense of his dilemma, Ron unbuttoned his trousers and tentatively patted his special friend. It was whispering to him again, he could almost hear it say: _Come on, mate. You know you want to touch me. Maybe a tussle with me will make you forget all about it. How many opportunities do you get to bash the bishop in your dormitory at night? With all of those other boys around, it's quite . . . hard to be secretive._

Ron growled deep in the back of his throat and stuck a hand in his pants. The buttons of his trousers grated his knuckles when he squeezed the head of his penis until it turned bright red. A squeak escaped Ron's lips before he remembered to press them together. He wanted to kill the thing; then he wouldn't have this sort of reaction to everything around him. Especially the very-naughty-highly-inappropriate-adrenaline-surge that went through him earlier. 

He closed his eyes and leant his head against the tiled wall behind the toilet, squirming his hips to get comfortable. Pictures flashed behind Ron's eyes and he tried desperately to shut them out, but they were insistent. Finally, he gave way to them and let his fingers glide down over the head of his penis to circle the root and back again.

This was so wrong.

One didn't just dip into the loo for a quick strangle between classes. Normal wizards didn't do this, did they? Bickering didn't turn on normal wizards, and certainly not with someone like—

Ron whimpered and pumped his hand up and down faster, squeezing desperately. Make it go away, make it go away, make it go _away_! A Hogwarts' robe, shiny shoes over little feet, delicate hands, a scowl, hair—hair— hair. Not the hair, anything but that _hair_.

He could feel it coming. Ron had allowed his mind to stray to the hair and now there was nothing that would hold back that wet, sticky, goo that always shot out of his—er, wand. Sensations tumbled through his mind now. A shove, a punch, rolling around on the floor, someone's waist between his knees as he gave it to them good. He whispered a name unwillingly.

Ron gasped, still moving his hand furiously, digging his fingers into the hardened flesh as if he could rip the betraying part off of his body. There was no way. It just wasn't _possible_.

Ron's bottom tensed and he could feel the length in his hand quiver and thicken. His skin was slippery with sweat and— other things. He tugged, yanked, and pulled harsher than usual, the pain calming him a bit. Then Ron's hips sprang up, his body tightened and it was finally over.

he muttered, and wiped the mess from his fingers with some tissue. 

It was quiet now. It wasn't speaking to him anymore and it lay as if dead against the band of his pants. 

Ron grunted and stood up to button his trousers. He patted his robes down and adjusted his collar before unlocking the stall door and coming face to face with Draco Malfoy.

Ron screamed and ducked back into the stall, leaning up against the door and closing his eyes. Did he hear anything? Ron prayed that he didn't.

Well, well, well, Weasley. Are we having problems? Malfoy drawled. Ron could hear the sneer in the other boy's voice and he knew he was sunk.

None of your business, Malfoy. Just go away. 

There was a rustling on the other side of the door and Ron risked a peek through the crack to see Malfoy staring directly at him with a smirk on his face. It's too bad I didn't have a camera to capture that performance, Weasley.

Sod off, you creepy twat, Ron growled. He'd had enough of this already. Ron opened the door, slamming it into the wall with a bang, and shoved past Malfoy.

I'm not the creepy one. _I'm_ not the one wanking off between classes in an empty lavatory. 

No, you just like to spy on other people doing it.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and leant up against the wall. Who said I was spying?

Ron washed his hands at the sink and continued to ignore what was being said to him. He turned off the tap, dried his hands on his robes, and strode purposefully toward the door. Malfoy was _still_ talking, but something he said struck Ron the wrong way and he turned around.

What did you say?

Malfoy grinned broadly, showing all of his perfect, straight teeth in a smug manner. I said that if you needed help, you could have asked. 

Then he disappeared into the stall Ron had vacated with a saucy wink. Ron stood rooted to his place and stared with his jaw hanging down near his chest. Did Malfoy just say what he thought he said? No, no, no, he must have heard wrong or something. Suddenly, there was a loud, dramatic groan and Ron flinched. He wasn't!

Malfoy, you're bloody sick! Ron screeched.

No more than you are, a voice echoed from the stall. You got just as worked up as I did earlier, but at least I can admit it.

Ron felt his ears burn and he looked down at the floor, tapping the tiles with his foot. That wasn't the reason he had, you know, earlier. It was because Hermione grabbed his arm and her hair went into his face, and then he noticed _Malfoy's_ hair and how shiny it was against his pink, flushed cheeks and . . . oh God!

Another groan came from the stall, even louder this time, and Ron jerked his head up to see a shiny shoe peeking out from under the door. He screwed up his courage and walked over to the stall. It was just so _wrong_.

Do you— uh, need any help in there, Malfoy?


End file.
